


Of All The Gin Joints

by zellieh



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Past Relationship(s), Sex, Sex Positive, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zellieh/pseuds/zellieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they ask him to be Vecchio, and he agrees.  And they say, 'Don't worry, everyone knows, including the family. They'll help you, but you don't have to live with them; we've got you an apartment.'  And they say, 'We've set up a meeting for you with the family members.  You'll be meeting Francesca Vecchio first; she works at the station, so she'll be able to help you a lot.'</p><p>And he walks into the meeting, and he says, "<em>You're</em> Francesca Vecchio?  You're supposed to be my <em>sister</em>?" and he remembers her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of All The Gin Joints

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://community.livejournal.com/stop_drop_porn/profile)[**stop_drop_porn**](http://community.livejournal.com/stop_drop_porn/)'s Kink Fest 2007 - Prompt: Incest. I couldn't do outright incest – it's a personal squick of mine – but this idea just wouldn't let me go, even when I tried to write hooker!fic. I hope you like it.

So they ask him to be Vecchio, and he agrees. And they say, 'Don't worry, everyone knows, including the family. They'll help you, but you don't have to live with them; we've got you an apartment.' And they say, 'We've set up a meeting for you with the family members. You'll be meeting Francesca Vecchio first; she works at the station, so she'll be able to help you a lot.'

And he walks into the meeting, and he says, "_You're_ Francesca Vecchio? You're supposed to be my _sister_?" and he remembers her.

*****

 

He remembers the first time that he saw Francesca Vecchio, twisting away from that drunk loser Regan in a bar, stamping her high heels into the Neanderthal's toes, just before she slapped him and threw her drink in his face. This tiny little woman in a tiny little black dress who wasn't gonna take any shit from anyone, even if the guy did outweigh her by a good two hundred pounds and carry a badge and a gun.

He remembers offering her the use of his cellphone if she wanted to make a call. 'Nah. My brother's overprotective enough as it is; if he finds out I was in a bar fight I'll be grounded till I'm sixty-five.' Remembers offering her cab fare home; 'I'm not taking your money. What kind of woman do you think I am?' Remembers driving her to his place in the end, offering her the foldout couch. 'I can catch the bus in the morning. I always carry bus fare in my bra.' He remembers that it seemed to make sense at the time.

He remembers that they'd both been a little toasted. He'd tried to hold her up while she took off her pantyhose, and she'd tripped over in her six-inch heels, knocking them both onto the bed, giggling like children. She'd worn matching black underwear and a push-up bra.

He remembers the way she'd gone all silent and intense when he went down on her, just these little gasps, and her hands clutching his shoulders and petting his hair, her thighs quivering and flexing against his shoulders. Then the way she looked above him, riding him, teasing him with cheesy lines from bad porn movies. 'Oh, yeah, give it to me harder, big boy!' He remembers the way it felt so good to laugh in bed. Most of all, he remembers the way she was kind enough not to call him on it, even though he's pretty sure he called her Stella at the end.

He remembers the next morning, the way it felt so good to wake up with her in his arms, even after the gut punch when he realised she wasn't Stella. He remembers the way she just looked at him and smiled, a little shy, a little uncertain for a moment, and when he'd seen it in her eyes, that she couldn't be bothered with the awkwardness.

He remembers the terrible coffee she made while he was in the shower, and the way she hugged him goodbye, pulling back to say, 'hey, thanks for, you know, last night,' grabbing his head in both hands and laying a big smooch of a kiss on him before grabbing his neck and ruffling his hair. The way he'd smiled back at her, kissed her hand, said, 'I should be the one thanking you, beautiful,' and twirled her around until she laughed and smacked his arm. He remembers the way he smiled through the whole day for the first time since Stella asked for a divorce.

*****

 

So he looks at her now, and tries for a smile, but it feels weird. He tries for a nonchalant 'Hey, sis,' and stalls out at 'Hey.'

 

  
*********   


 

So they said to her and the rest of the family, 'We found a detective called Kowalski to go undercover as your brother, but we're going to need your help.' And they said, 'He won't have to live with you; we've got him an apartment.' And they said, 'You'll be the first to meet him, Francesca. He's going to need your help settling in at the station.'

And she looks up when he walks in, and she _remembers_ him, and she says, "You're supposed to be my _brother_? But you're a natural blonde!"

*****

 

And she remembers the first time that she saw Stanley Raymond Kowalski: he looked hot, in his tight jeans and tighter muscle shirt, and sort of sad around the eyes, and really pissed off; but then he had just punched a guy out for her. She remembers how he reminded her of the wolves with cubs she saw at the zoo: dangerous and gentle at the same time.

She remembers talking to him in the car about how she was never going to let cousin Louis set her up on a blind date again, and her latest break-up, and his divorce. They'd agreed that love sucked, and she'd patted his arm and told him that it got better. Somehow they ended up talking about all the worst ever dating disasters they'd been in or heard of – 'Poison oak?! Really? Okay, you win' – and spent the rest of the drive laughing so hard it hurt.

She remembers the fear she felt, walking into his apartment for the first time - _What the hell am I doing? I don't even know this guy!_ – and the way he'd looked at her, and said, 'I'm gonna make us a coffee. You wanna call somebody?' and handed her the phone, and left the door unlocked while he went into the kitchen, which she knew cops just did not do.

She remembers looking around at his apartment, all lived-in and unloved, with a sink full of dishes and a fridge full of take-out and no pictures anywhere; all his personal stuff still in boxes against one wall. She'd been a little nervous about even sitting down on his couch, until she caught this look in his eyes that she saw too often in her own bathroom mirror.

She remembers how funny it was later when they found out that the foldout couch had rusted shut, and how he gave her the bedroom and meant it. 'I'll sleep on the couch. T-shirts are in the dresser; robe's on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. Uh, I don't think I have a spare toothbrush…'

She remembers the way he'd looked kinda shy when he stripped off, running a hand through his hair and looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as he shuffled his feet a little, said, 'So, hey, beautiful,' almost like he expected her to change her mind and leave. And the way his eyes lit up when she held out her hand and said, 'Hurry up, gorgeous; it's not nice to keep a lady waiting.'

She remembers the way he was a gentleman in bed, taking his time, just enjoying making her come and come again, all intense and focused on her until she started making jokes about his pornstar prowess in self-defence. She could tell he was doing stuff his ex-wife liked, but wow, his ex-wife had been one lucky woman. In the end, she flipped him over and just took what she wanted, and he looked up at her like she was a goddess.

She remembers the way he cuddled her all night long, and the way she woke up to him stroking her hair, dusting little kisses over her head; the way she looked at him, and felt awkward until she thought _what the hell_ and smiled, and he smiled back, so softly, and said 'Buon giorno, bella donna' in the worst Italian accent she'd ever heard.

She remembers the way he ran his hand through his hair and slapped the counter in frustration when he ended up spouting clichés everywhere while they drank their morning coffee. 'It's not you, it's me; I'm a mess right now,' and 'You deserve better, Francesca,' and 'I hope you find a nice guy…or, uh, a good job, or you know, whatever you want. I hope it all works out for you.' She would have punched him, except she could tell he meant it.

*****

 

And so in the end, after all the blushing and awkward half-sentences, she looks at him, this ex-lover and new fake brother, and thinks about the way he's all tired eyes and bad attitude over marshmallow, and she says, "We're both, you know, adults - we can do this. One for all, and two for one!"


End file.
